


Good Fortune 10

by Grey (grey853)



Category: The Sentinel
Genre: Angst, Drama, M/M, Multiple Partners, Series: Good Fortune, h/c
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-10
Updated: 2013-05-10
Packaged: 2017-12-11 01:09:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/792294
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grey853/pseuds/Grey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jim has trouble dealing with his anger and his new relationships.<br/>This story is a sequel to Good Fortune 9.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Good Fortune 10

## Good Fortune 10

by Grey

Author's webpage: <http://grey.ravenshadow.net/>

Disclaimer: Not mine. 

Summary: Jim's having problems dealing with his anger and his changing life. 

Notes: Thanks to Jenn aka XFreak for all her support. 

Warnings: Hurt/comfort and Jimangst for those who enjoy that sort of diet. 

* * *

Good Fortune 10  
by Grey 

Jim plopped the weights back on the bench's support bars and closed his eyes, his muscles already tight from the short round of pumping. 

"You know you're not supposed to lift without a spotter." 

Surprised by the voice, he turned his head, Simon's dark figure looming to the side. "Why aren't you with Blair?" 

"He kicked me out for awhile. Seems he's more worried about you than he is himself. Don't worry. Joel's with him." 

Sitting up, Jim grabbed a towel and wiped the sweat from his face, avoiding his friend's gaze. His whole body buzzed with restless energy, an undercurrent of dread he couldn't explain. "So, why are you here?" 

"I wanted to see how you were after your session." 

"How'd you know I'd be here?" 

"You're always here after a mandatory." 

Uneasy, he met Simon's eyes, the concern there open and genuine. "I'm fine." 

"Why don't I believe that?" 

"Because you're a suspicious bastard by nature. It comes with the territory." 

"Seriously, Jim. How'd it go?" 

"Nothing new. Prick doesn't know shit about police work." 

"Did you tell him that?" 

"Don't worry. I said all the right things. I always do." 

Standing up, Jim walked to the bench and picked up one of the boxing gloves. As he pulled it on, Simon stepped into view and grabbed the other one, his voice deep and husky. "Skip that. Let's go somewhere so we can talk." 

"Not right now, Simon." 

"Jim. Come on. Let's get out of here for awhile, just the two of us." 

Startled with the realization of the suggestion, Jim ignored the glove and lifted his head, his eyes locking with Simon's. "Have you lost your mind?" 

"Maybe." 

"It's the middle of the day." 

"So?" 

"So, I can't deal with that right now. Besides, we've got work to do. When I'm finished here, I'm going after Richards again. I'm convinced he's hiding something." 

Brow creased, Simon frowned. "Can't deal with what? Being with me?" 

"We said we'd keep personal time and work separate." 

"That's what I'm trying to do." 

Jim took the other glove from Simon and walked toward the bag as the older man followed. He spoke quietly, his words almost pleading. "Not now. I just can't. Let it go, okay?" 

"Sure, if that's what you want." 

"It is." 

As Jim finished lacing up his gloves, Simon leaned back against the wall, his arms crossed. Disappointed didn't half describe the expression. After a few more moments, he finally spoke. "Blair mentioned something about Richards." 

"What?" 

"He said he heard Richards and Mansfield talking about some guy named Harrison in relation to Anderson and Burke. He didn't know what the connection was, but it might have something to do with a motive for killing Burke." 

"Yeah, it could be." 

"We could question him together." 

"Sure." Jim slammed the bag, the blow off center. Stepping up, Simon placed his body to the other side to hold it steady. Throwing another punch rammed the power up through his arm to his shoulder, solid and painful, the way he needed it. Without anymore talk or distraction, he did what he came for. Pounding the leather, the sweat trailing down his face, his wet shirt stuck to his back and belly. Every contact battered down the energy, tapped off the frustration. He wanted to take away the fury, the terrible impotent rage of having Mansfield still living inside his head, of having Blair question his actions. 

The dumbfuck deserved killing. Why should he feel guilty? No fucking way should he care about killing a shit like that. No fucking way. Each strike carried his message loud and clear, every fist jamming into leather reinforced the rightness of his being. The bastard deserved more than killing for touching his partner, for daring to hurt the man he shared his life with. 

"Jim, enough, man. You're going to hurt something in a minute." 

Simon's voice slowed the round and he finally stopped, pulling off his gloves to reach for a towel. 

"Feel better?" 

"Better than what?" 

"Jim, talk to me. Tell me what's going on in that head of yours." 

"I'm going to take a shower. I'll meet you upstairs to talk to Richards. After that, I'm going back to the hospital." 

As he turned to leave, Simon touched his arm. "Why do you always make things so damn hard on yourself?" 

Jim stared down at his arm and then slowly looked up at Simon, his eyes narrowed. "This is who I am. You've known me long enough to get that." He pulled away, his voice strained and tight. "Don't expect miracle makeovers, Simon. It's never going to happen." 

"I'm not expecting that." 

"No? You could've fooled me. Now, if you'll excuse me, I've got a job to do." 

Simon remained silent as he walked away, the dark eyes somber behind the reflecting lenses. Jim couldn't think about that now. He needed more than taking out Mansfield. He needed more to pay for the pain wrecking his insides. 

* * *

Joey Richards fidgeted as he sat in the interrogation room, his arms wrapped around his thin body. Even with his right eye blacked and his nose swollen, his blond hair, blue eyes, and delicate features made him too pretty for his own good. Without protection, he wouldn't last a day in prison. 

Jim pursed his lips as he leaned in, his hand on the back of Richards's slim neck as he spoke with a voice cold enough to scare even war-trained troopers. "Tell me about Harrison." 

The body stiffened at the name. "Who?" 

"Don't fuck with me, Joey. What's Harrison got to do with Jerry Anderson and Hugh Burke?" 

Swallowing hard, Richards looked over at Simon to gauge any support. Finding none for the moment, he closed his eyes and took a deep breath. "How'd you know about Harrison?" 

"Doesn't matter. Tell me." 

Glancing up at Jim, he shook his head. "He'll kill me." 

"Who? Anderson?" 

"No. Thompson." 

Simon leaned in, his interest even more engaged. "What's the connection?" 

"You don't understand." 

"Explain it to us." Simon noted the terrified expression on the young man's face and frowned. "Jim, why don't you give our friend here some breathing space?" 

Taking the cue, Jim reluctantly stood straighter and squeezed Richards's neck a little harder before he released it and stepped back. He paced the room, his jaw clenching and his arms hugging his chest, his hands tucked up under his armpits. "We don't have time for all these fucking games, Joey. You want to keep your skinny ass out of prison, you'll tell us what we need so maybe we can make a better deal." 

"I can't handle prison, man, not without Eddie." 

"Then talk to us. Help us, we'll help you. It's as simple as that." Simon spoke softly, his voice more than convincing. 

"Burke knew about Harrison." 

Simon took over the interrogation while Jim stood at the edge watching, his eyes trained on the man who helped Mansfield steal and hurt his partner. "Knew what?" 

"That Thompson killed a guy named Doug Harrison. He was a singer at one of Jerry's clubs." 

"Why'd he kill him and what's that got to do with Burke?" 

"I don't know why he killed him, but Burke knew about it and he knew that Thompson worked with Anderson. The stupid son of a bitch also knew Thompson was a cop. I think he saw him at Harrison's club one night and put it together. Anyway, he tried to use it to keep from paying off what he owed Jerry." 

Jim shook his head, rubbing his forehead with his right hand. "Are you saying Burke was blackmailing Anderson?" 

"Yeah, and, man, was he pissed. That's when he told Eddie and me to take care of Burke, to make sure he never told anybody about Thompson and Harrison." 

"And that's when you and your buddy Mansfield kidnapped my partner." 

Joey met Jim's eyes, his face frightened, and shook his head. "Man, I had nothing to do with that. Eddie followed your friend and Burke to the motel after Thompson called and told us the guy was going into hiding. I wanted to let him go, but Eddie was afraid Burke told him about Harrison. It was crazy. I fucking told him that. Motherfucker never listened to me." He touched his black eye, his voice trembling. "Eddie had a temper. I couldn't stop him. I swear to god I tried." 

"Not hard enough." 

"Jim, settle down." Simon snapped out the words and then turned his attention back to Richards. "Do you have any idea why Thompson killed Harrison?" 

"I only know what I heard. I can't prove anything." 

"What did you hear?" 

"Harrison and Thompson were together for awhile, but Thompson moved on to somebody better." 

Jim stepped closer to the table. "Are you saying Thompson's gay?" 

"I'm just saying what I heard. Anyway, the word is Harrison didn't take it too well and threatened to make trouble." 

Jim already knew the answer, but pressed to hear it out loud. "Make trouble how?" 

Joey tilted his head, his voice hoarse and growing more raspy as he spoke. "Come on, detective. Use your imagination. How long do you think a gay cop would last in this city? Not fucking long. Plus, he was going to tell about Thompson's deal with Anderson, at least that's what I heard." 

Jim glanced over at Simon, both men silent for a few extra moments before the captain finally asked, "Any idea when all this happened and what Thompson did with the body?" 

"A few weeks ago. I don't have a clue about the body. Eddie knew." 

"Eddie's dead." 

Jim's pronouncement brought the younger man's head up. "You didn't even give him a chance to lower his gun, man." 

Eyes hard, his voice steady, Jim stared back without flinching. "I gave him more chance than he gave Burke or my partner." 

More chance than he fucking deserved. Gritting his teeth, Jim turned and opened the door, leaving Simon to finish up. Storming down the corridor, he pushed into the restroom, grateful to be alone. Leaning over the sink, he turned the tap and rinsed his face several times before he dried it. As he stood up, the door opened. 

"You okay?" 

"The son of a bitch deserved to die." 

"I know that." 

"Then why do I feel like shit here, like it's not enough?" 

Simon moved closer, his voice soft, his warm breath against his cheek. "I can't answer that. Maybe you should talk to Blair." 

Jim sat back on the edge of the sink, the pressure in his chest easing only slightly. "He doesn't need anymore grief." 

"It's only grief when you shut him out or when you pretend everything's fine when it's not. You know we both care about you." 

"I know." Jim wiped his face with both hands and stood up again, avoiding Simon's worried gaze. "You going to follow through on tracking down leads on Harrison?" 

"Yeah. I'll check with missing persons and run some checks. What about you?" 

"After I pick up Blair's glasses, I'm going to take care of Burke's funeral arrangements." 

"Why? Doesn't he have any family?" 

"Apparently not." Jim took a deep breath and paused at the door. "I let the poor bastard get beaten to death, Simon. The least I can do is bury him." 

"It wasn't your fault, Jim. You heard what Richards said. He wasn't just some hapless gambler. He was blackmailing people." 

"So?" 

"So, he fucked with the wrong people." 

"You want to tell Blair that's why he's still in a morgue drawer?" 

"You know what I'm saying here." 

Jim nodded, his face drawn and serious. "I do, but it doesn't make any difference. Burke was Blair's friend and I let him down. I have to do this." 

Simon sighed and shrugged. "Do what you have to. I'll meet you back at the hospital as soon as I'm done." 

Jim hesitated a second longer. "You going to stay at my place again tonight?" 

"You want me to?" 

"If someone can guard Blair, yeah, I think I might." 

Walking past him into the corridor, Simon whispered, "When you decide for sure, Jim, let me know." 

* * *

"The lady said you could drop by anytime and get them adjusted once you're out of the hospital." Jim stood by the bedside while Blair put on his glasses, the lenses intensifying the deep blue of his eyes. 

"Thanks, man." Blair fiddled with the fit and then lay still, blinking several times as his eyes focused. 

"Better?" 

"Yeah, but it's all still pretty blurry." 

"You've got a concussion. That's to be expected." 

"I know." Blair paused and then turned his head. "I kept down the cherry Jello at lunch so I'm making progress." 

"Still dizzy?" 

"Not as much." 

"Still got the IV and catheter?" 

"Killjoy." 

"It's a little early for terms of endearment, Chief." 

"Smartass works." 

Jim smiled and leaned forward on the rail, his body more relaxed at the improved mood of his partner. "I think we've got a break in the case. That name you told Simon panned out." 

"Yeah, I know. Simon called to tell me before you got here. Said the guy went missing about two weeks ago. You really think Thompson killed him and that's what started this whole mess?" 

"I don't know. It fits a lot better than some other scenarios we've played." 

Blair took off his glasses, his face suddenly pensive as he handed them to Jim to put on the table. "I can't believe Hugh would do something so stupid." 

"Desperate people do stupid things. He owed a lot of money and he saw a way out. He didn't stop to think about what might happen. We see this kind of shit all the time." 

"I know. It's just that I knew him, or thought I did. He was smarter than that." 

"Being intellectually smart doesn't mean you're always emotionally smart, Chief. Your friend had some serious problems or he'd never have been into gambling like that in the first place." 

"I just wish I could've helped." 

"Yeah, well, you can't help if they don't ask." 

Blair paused and took Jim's hand, pulling it to his chest. "Simon said you were a little upset earlier. Want to talk about it?" 

"Simon's a bigmouth." 

"He loves you, Jim. So do I. What's going on with you? If you're upset about what I said about killing Mansfield, don't be. I know you did the right thing. I wasn't criticizing. Hell, man, you saved my life." 

Jim lifted their clasped hands up and kissed Blair's before touching it gently to his forehead and closing his eyes. His voice stretched the words, his throat tight and his tongue reluctant to work. "You said I scared you." 

"I didn't mean it like that." 

"I know, but you're right to be scared. I scare myself sometimes. I didn't just want to kill Mansfield, Blair. I wanted to hurt him, I mean really fucking destroy the son of a bitch. Shooting him dead happened too fast. He didn't suffer enough to pay for what he did to you or to Burke and who knows how many others." 

"And you still feel that way?" 

"Yeah." 

After several long moments, Blair spoke quietly. "Jim, look at me, man." 

Lifting his head, Jim met Blair's worried eyes. "It's okay. You don't think I wasn't pissed as hell for what happened? Sure I was. But I got lucky. I didn't have to shoot anybody when I felt like that." 

"You're losing me." 

Blair shifted, but still held Jim's hand, squeezing gently. "Don't you get it? You shot him because you had to, but now you feel guilty because at the time you wanted to shoot him. There's your conflict, man. You're a cop. You're not supposed to want to kill people, even assholes like Mansfield. The problem is, you're also human. Thank god." 

"Why thank god?" 

"Because I wouldn't want you any other way. If you could kill the guy and not feel anything at all, then I'd be worried." 

Smiling weakly, Jim tilted his head and studied his partner's pale face. "You're pretty smart for a guy with a serious head injury." 

"Smart enough to know you missed a great opportunity in the gym today." 

"What?" 

"Simon and I figured out a new workout plan and you blew it." 

Standing straighter, his face flushed with embarrassment, Jim stepped away in amazement. "You were in on that?" 

"Hell, I suggested it." 

"Why?" 

"Why not? Just because I'm laid up here doesn't mean you two can't get laid somewhere else." 

Stunned, Jim laughed and shook his head. "I'm in love with a nut." 

"Two nuts. Four if you want to get picky." 

More relaxed, Jim surrendered to the wacky world of Sandburg. Stepping back to the bed, he lowered the rail and sat on the edge of the mattress. Tenderly, he caressed Blair's face, the beard shaved, his skin less pale. "I can't wait to get you home." 

The younger man captured his hand and held it to his cheek. "And I want to be there. In the meantime, take care of Simon. You're not the only one who's gotten scared in the last few days, Jim. This is a big change in his life, too." 

Remembering their shared bed of the night before, the strong arms holding him, he found it hard to imagine Simon wanting him to return the favor. "I'm not sure he needs that from me." 

"Then ask him." Shifting, Blair sat up a little higher, the grimace only momentary. "Talk to him, Jim. Find out where you two are together." 

"And what about you?" 

Blair waved a hand and closed his eyes with a wan smile. "Resting up. I'm hoping I'm going to need all my strength when they finally let me out of this godforsaken place." 

On impulse, Jim leaned over and kissed Blair's forehead as he whispered, "All your strength and then some, Chief." 

The end 


End file.
